Chapter 2

Hermione found herself sitting in the empty Slytherin common room, hunched up in an armchair by the fireplace, her head in her hands. This was all so strange. It all felt so familiar, yet so foreign. She was back at Hogwarts yes, but everything felt backwards. It felt like it was all inside out, all wrong. She was in the enemy house, sitting in their common room, years before she had even been born, and classmates with her friend's parents. She knew she had to be here, but that didn't mean she had to like it. She had already written to McGonagall via the journal to tell her she had arrived safely, and that everything, so far, was going according to plan. She was glad at least, for that little life line back to her own time, even if it was only one way, it felt good just to know that she was talking to someone from home.

Suddenly the door to the common room swung open and a bunch of Slytherin students toppled through into the room, laughing and chatting among themselves. When they saw Hermione they stopped, frozen still like a muggle painting, to gawk at her. She sat up stiffly in her seat and looked back at them coolly, displaying far more confidence than she felt.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" demanded a square-shaped, mountain of a boy who Hermione assumed was the father of either Crabb or Goyle.

"Hermione Song" she said shortly, tilting her head up a little and straightening her spine so that she drew her self up to her full height in her seat. "Who the hell are you?" Crabb, or Goyle which ever it was, looked confusedly at his friend, (who looked just as confounded as he) as the others around them sniggered.

"What?" he said, sounding just as stupid as he looked at this moment. Hermione heard the sound of a girl sniggering from within the crowd followed by a loud huff. A young Narcissa Malfoy, or rather, Narcissa Black, pushed her way to the front of the crowd and looked boldly into Hermione's light hazel eyes. She studied her for a moment, taking in every inch of her appearance with one great sweeping glance. "She's the new girl that Sluggy was telling us about at dinner." She said to the group behind her without taking her eyes off Hermione's.

"Or was I the only one listening?"

"As usual," sneered a dark, shaggy headed boy.

"Shut it Regulus," she snapped and the smile slid from Regulus Blacks face. "Ignore them," she said to Hermione. "Most of them are as stupid as they look. Except perhaps Reg. He's only half as stupid as he looks." She smirked at her cousin who rolled his eyes at her half smiling.

"Thanks cousin," he muttered as he disappeared down the stairs to the boy's dorm. She thrust out a slender white hand for Hermione to shake and said

"Narcissa Black" She sat in the chair opposite her and smiled wryly. "I have to say," she said. "Your not what I expected." Hermione raised an eyebrow incredulously.

"And what was that?" she asked, making Narcissa smile slyly.

"Some one, less well groomed." Hermione couldn't help but let out a bark of laughter.

"What were you expecting?" she sniggered. "A travellers daughter?" Narcissa chuckled.

"Are you?"

"No"

"Good." She looked over Hermione once more, curiosity burning in her eyes like the fire that crackled in the grate.

"Slughorn said your parents work for the foreign office at the Ministry," she said.

"Yes" Hermione answered shortly. She didn't like this, being interrogated. But she was supposed to get close to them, and Narcissa Black was persistent in her questioning.

"Where have lived then?"

"France, Spain, Romania, the USA and Africa," she recited. "All over really."

"Sounds fascinating," Narcissa said, her eyes fixed on the new witch. "Did you go to Beaux Battons?" Hermione nodded and Narcissa's eyes narrowed in jealousy. "How does it compare?"

"I'll have to let you know when I find out," Hermione said, making the young blond smile, lighting up her flawless face.

"What dorm are you in?" she asked. Hermione pulled out a sheet of paper and read her the number on it.

"That's mine," Narcissa said. "I though you would be. We only have rooms of two in seventh year. It was too much to hope for that they would leave me with out a roommate.

"Well I'm sorry for the inconvenience," she said tersely.

"I'll just have to cope then wont I." She stood up and beckoned for Hermione to follow. "I'll show you up shall I?"

As she had expected, her trunk and other belongings were by her large four-poster bed, safely padlocked shut. Hermione sat on her bed and looked around the surprisingly cosy room. It was not unlike the room she had shared with her Gryffindor friends, only smaller and they had their own little bathroom to the side. Not to mention the fact that everything was green not red.

"This must be your timetable." Narcissa said picking up a sheet of paper of Hermione's bedside table. "Your in most of my classes." She mused.

"Great." Hermione murmured trying to smile. This was going to be interesting.

At seven o'clock the next morning Narcissa's alarm went off and they rose and got ready for breakfast. Sitting at the Slytherin table, Hermione took the opportunity to scout out all the faces she would recognise. Thankfully, no one seemed that interested in her. As soon as she told them about her father's supposed job they seemed to lose interest. It seemed to be enough information. Apparently if her father held an important job at the ministry she was automatically counted as one of them. But what was that exactly? A rich brat? An arrogant snob? A bully? She had no idea. She didn't know how she should act, so she just kept quiet. But how was she supposed to convince these people to swap sides in a war, one that had hardly even begun no less, by keeping quiet?

She spent the days lessons sat at the back of every classroom with Narcissa, pondering the question of how she was meant to go about her impossible task, as Narcissa took careful notes on every detail of what the teachers were saying. Whenever a question was asked her hand would shoot into the air and the question would be answered perfectly, a smug little smile appearing on her pretty face as she did so. She reminded Hermione of herself actually. The thought made her smile a little. Narcissa looked at her curiously.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," Hermione said looking down. "You just remind me of someone I once knew. That's all."

"Who?" the beautiful young blond whispered when Professor Slughorn wasn't looking. When Hermione refused to answer she looked at her carefully, the fire of curiosity crackling behind her ice blue eyes once again, and, sensing the sensitivity of the subject, she let it drop.

That evening they sat in the common room in the two armchairs closest to the fire, listening to the sound of the rain against the windows, and the crackling of the flames in the grate as they did their homework in silence. Having missed the first week of the school year, Hermione already had a lot to catch up on. She was supposed to be copying up Narcissa's notes from potions, but having looked through the material she'd been given, she found that war had taught her all this and more. Wars did that to you, she thought to her self; they make you grow up too fast. In stead she sat, staring blankly into the flames, watching as they leapt and danced before her.

"What are you thinking about?" Narcissa asked, suddenly pulling her back into reality. She was looking at her over the top of her book, studying her as though she was some sort of ancient artefact that she couldn't quite figure out, fascinating and mysterious.

"I've been watching you all day," she said bluntly. "You always seem so lost in your own head. What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," Hermione said automatically, but when the young blond raised an eyebrow, looking incredulous, she couldn't help but let out a little sigh. "Everything," she said cryptically. "Everything and nothing. It's not important," she snapped

"Oh but I think it is," said Narcissa, closing her book so that she could lean across the table to look more closely at her. "For it to monopolise your thoughts so it must be. I think it must be very important."

"It's complicated," Hermione said. "And quite frankly I don't know you well enough to confide anything in you just yet." Narcissa frowned a little to her self.

"Yes," she said thoughtfully, her voice softer now, almost as though she was speaking to herself. "I think it must be very complicated. The way it makes you look, like you have a great trouble sitting on you shoulders, never letting you have a moment's peace." I do. Hermione thought to her self. "But you'll tell me," she smirked. "Eventually."

"Will I?" Hermione said, amused by the young witch's self-confidence. "What makes you think that?" The blond smiled slyly and shrugged.

"You will. Just wait. Not yet perhaps, but you will. I'm sure of it."